


In Memorium

by Erring_and_umming



Category: Young Dracula (TV)
Genre: Complete, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Future Fic, Minor Character Death, Oneshot, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Season 5 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23839246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erring_and_umming/pseuds/Erring_and_umming
Summary: The yew would hold Sally Giles in its grasp from now until eternity. George can't be sure if she can move on, alone in the world and unsure where to go from here. A figure stands at the back of the funeral, watching the proceedings with tears in his eyes.
Kudos: 13





	In Memorium

**Author's Note:**

> This idea hit me after I watched the last season. I'm sorry for writing this. It hurt my feelings.

“Sally Giles was the most wonderful woman. The most gorgeous of souls, but also, she could be a right pain in the arse if she wanted to be,” there was a light smattering of laughter throughout the guests, “I’m glad…I’m glad she was my mum. I have so much to be thankful but most of all it’s her. I’m sure it’s the same for many of us here, she touched people in a way that was beyond the call of compassion, she loved everyone she met. No matter who they were and that was what made her truly special.”

George was crying, it wasn’t the pretty cry that sometimes appeared in film, it was a guttural sob that tore through her in waves. Rushing through her from the toes up in painful hot pulses. The seas of black before her seemed to be empathetic to her struggles to keep it together as she left the graveside.

They had done what Sally wanted, a natural burial in the woods, in specially sectioned off as land for conservation, protected eternally by the people who rested there. There were not many of these sights in England, but George had found one just for her mum. The site itself was dark, the canopy of trees hiding the sun from funeral, only tiny shafts of light kissed the ground. George wasn’t sure why, but it had felt right, placing her mother amongst the gnarled roots of the yew tree. It felt as close to magical as the real world would allow, mist rolling across the ground, undulating beneath their feet. The branches that reached for the sky covered in thick layers of moss and the hum of wildlife around them.

Sally would have loved it.

There wasn’t much to mark the grave, just a pile of stone as she had requested, she had stepped so lightly upon the earth her mum.

George threw a handful of dirt onto the linen shroud that covered her, looking down and wishing that this was all some horrible dream.

The funeral came to an end, many of the attendants came and sung her mother’s praises, holding her hands in theirs. George was only half listening, caught in the daze of mourning that hung around her like smoke.

She couldn’t help but stare into the forest, watching as it just lived. It was as if she could see it growing around her, each crunch of the dirt as her mother was buried behind her was just a shield, growing over her mother’s body to protect her. The forest would protect her, she was sure of it. It would hold her and love her and take care of her. In a way that she couldn’t anymore.

A mumble caught her ear and a cold hand grasped hers. It was nearly ice against her skin, she looked down ambivalently to the hand that was youthful and pale like milk. She was met by a pair of azure eyes framed by heavy shadows, she was caught in the gaze for a moment, the person’s words rushing over her as she stared. They were so much like her mother’s not so much in colour but the way their eyelashes curled up and away in dark strokes.

She snapped from her revere, taking in the man who was about a decade younger than herself, around twenty or so in a dark suit, holding in his other hand what looked to be an umbrella. His dark hair was swept to the side in small waves that framed his face.

“I’m so sorry for your loss George,” his voice was thick, as if there was something stuck in his throat.

He was completely unfamiliar to her, “I’m sorry but do I know you?” she asked, unable to hide the slight bite to her words.

“Uh no,” the man seemed taken aback, removing his hand from her grasp George noticed that her hand felt warmer now, adjusting to the missing grip of the man.

“Then how do you know my name?” George shuffled on the spot, many of the guests had begun to file out of the forest, a few of Sally’s closer friends loitering about.

“Your mother used to talk about you a lot,” his smile was tight as he said this, his eyes lingering now on the covered burial site.

George looked at the young man, he seemed to be to young to have known her mother, “How did you know her?”

He looked away for a moment, biting his lip, “She…she came and did a sculpture for me at my dad’s hotel a long time ago...we fell out of touch after that,” It seemed that this man and her mother had been close despite the short meeting he described. His eyes were puffy, and he struggled to get the words out as if they had been the closest of friends.

They were alone now, even Sally’s closest friends had left to join civilisation once again.

In the back of her mind, George felt like this was familiar, like a memory of a vivid dream, but she couldn’t quite grasp it.

“What’s your name?” George asked, curious to know the young man who seemed so affected by her mother, as if it was the passing of his own blood.

The boy sighed, “Vlad.”

Again, it was a strange sense of déjà vu. Had they met before? He wasn’t familiar to her; it wasn’t like she had a bad memory for people at all. It was pulling at her, trying to drag her back into the foggy memories of her childhood.

“Well,” there was an awkward beat, “thank you for coming Vlad. I’m sure my mother would have appreciated —wait where did you get that?”

She pointed at the pendant around the boy’s neck. Held on a silver chain, hanging from it was a delicately carved half of a ying and yang symbol. It was the same as her mother’s just the opposing side, the swirl of the jet black nearly invisible against the black of his suit.

“Oh um,” the pendant was gone in the flash of a pale hand, tucked beneath his shirt, “A secondhand shop.” He replied coughing slightly as he opened his umbrella.

“That’s interesting, mum had one just like it. She was buried with it you know…she never took it off. I guess if you got her to make you a sculpture you must have similar taste,” George said with a weak smile, she didn’t quiet believe the boy.

“Well…I must be going,” he looked over George’s shoulder to the grave then up at the knotted branches of the yew as if he was searching for words to say, “I-I…” a tear rolled down his cheek, running a glistening river down his pale skin, “I didn’t think I would have to do this for a while longer you know?” he looked up towards her desperately as the tears fell to the earth, “I wasn’t really ready.”

George watched this display with surprise, her own grief swelling within her as she watched the boy struggle for words, “I don’t think any of us were. It was a complete accident.”

His eyes grew steely for a moment as he looked at the ground, sniffing, “You’re right. I’m sorry,” he said wiping his eyes, “you don’t even know me and I’m blubbering like a fool. It…It was nice to meet you George.”

“It was nice to meet you too Vlad. I hope we meet again.”

He just smiled, a wain little thing that didn’t make it to his eyes as he turned and walked away, umbrella held aloft as he broke the tree line into the field that boarded the forest.

George watched him leave, feeling as if she was missing something. A yawning empty cavern opened up in her chest as she watched the man disappear into the mist, leaving her alone with her mother and the yew.


End file.
